


Purification

by nerdyglitterpatrol



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Fantasy Sex, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Purification, Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, monk - Freeform, priestess - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23045701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyglitterpatrol/pseuds/nerdyglitterpatrol
Summary: After her elven guard Somhain corrupted her in a moment of unbridled passion, Altania is directed by the head priestess to undergo a thorough purification ritual with her new attendant, the young monk Dema, strangely addictive in spite of his demure facade.
Relationships: Servant and master - Relationship, monk and priestess
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Purification

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s some more one shot. I’m enjoying these characters and premise so this is technically chapter 2.

Chapter 2: Purification

Slowly the illusion began to fade in potency until at last Altania’s true form lay exposed in the garden, drenched in sweat and semen, unconscious, sleeping. No traces of Somhain could be found.

Altania was taken into the springs where she was thoroughly cleaned and taken to dine, only partially conscious, on a fresh and extensive meal of what she later discovered to be powerful aphrodisiacs. 

She awoke the next morning to the soft glow of sunlight in attendance of one of the head priestesses. Thoroughly embarrassed, Altania could hardly raise her head in acknowledgement of the regal woman before her and while her state the previous day was never addressed directly, The head priestess’ disapproval was clear in her expressions and demeanor.  
Beside her stood a young monk Altania had never seen. He stood in silence, eyes resting on her calmly. There was a gentleness to his stance and his eyes, a warm light brown, beckoned her with a promise of warmth. He wore monk’s robes in a brilliant silvered emerald hue, draped asymmetrically across his body, revealing his right torso. His neck curved into the sharp lines of his collar bone which then gave way to the lean, toned muscle of his arm.

“This is one of our newest initiates, Dema. He will attend to your purification.” The priestess’ voice rang out like the chime of a bell and in a second she was gone, leaving them suddenly alone together. Wordlessly, Dema bowed, extended his hand to help her up and guided her down a series of corridors to the purification chamber. His silence lead Altania to believe he had taken a vow never to speak. He moved with a measured yet seemingly effortless grace and somehow as they moved through the monestary, she found herself tracing the smooth curve of his head down to his exposed back with her eyes, hardly aware of where she was going.

Dema pulled open the heavy door and gestured for her to enter. She stepped into the chamber, a stone room draped in luxurious silk, at the center of which stood a circular dias covered in plush cushions. The soft rush of a fountain could be heard in the narrow waterways that surrounded the dias. The air was thick with the scent of incense and all around a mass of candles illuminated the room with a soft flickering glow. 

Dema pulled the heavy door closed, parted the silk curtains of the dias and gestured for her to enter. Altania studied him nervously. “Aren’t you going to speak?” She whispered, afraid herself to break the silence.

Dema studied her through his long lashes,

“I have taken a vow of silence,” he said softly, his voice just as warm as his demeanor, a soft honeyed tenor. 

“Though I can speak within the confines of this room as it is a religious sanctuary.”

“What is this room for, Dema? What do you intend to do?” Altania looked around the room. Her reflection peered back at her from the ceiling where a mirror lay inlaid into the stone.

“It is the purification chamber,” Dema replied, stepping tentatively onto the dias. “Here purification rituals are performed to cleanse you of any evil.”

“Purification?” Altania repeated softly, a slow burning warmth bubbling deep inside her.

“Yes.” Dema replied, equally quiet, “The ritual is safe, you will experience no pain and no harm shall come to you, I can promise you that with my life.” He paused before asking, “Can you trust me?” He looked inquisitively into her eyes, the full force of his soft gaze and full lips paused.

“…yes.” Altania responded breathlessly, the desire building in her driving her legs to tremble, and she shifted her hips with impatient discomfort.

Dema smiled peacefully. “Then I will begin the ritual.”

He took Altania’s hand and gently pulled her down, guided her to lay down before him and parted her legs. The thin linen of her gown stuck to the gushing wetness that oozed from her aching pussy. 

Dema dipped his fingers into a small pot of warm oil, and ignoring the desperation between her thighs, began to rub the oil onto her hips, slowly moving his hands up to her waist, torso, around her breasts, along her collar bone, down and around the length of her body in smooth rhythmic motions, occasionally gliding down her back. Her skin grew feverishly warm and incredibly sensitive to even the lightest of touches. It seemed the oil was infused with some kind of powerful aphrodisiac Dema took complete advantage of. She moaned softly in response, complete putty in his hands. The soft clinking of the tiny bells on the light bracelets around his wrists became like a pleasant music to her and when at last he finally caressed her hardened nipples, with only the lightest of touches, she came and cried out, and though her body trembled with waves of pleasure he was already caressing the soft skin of her thighs, the touch radiating out to every nerve in her body, drawing closer to that desperate warmth that begged for his touch.

His robes had fallen from his shoulder, exposing the lean muscle rippling through his torso, and his own hardened nipples. He leaned forward and Altania cried out loudly as the warmth of his tongue caressed her swollen clit. A dry orgasm wracked her body as the warmth of his tongue fell over her trembling vulva like wave after warm wave of ecstasy. He slid his tongue inside her, fully engaged, his whole body moving in tandem with his mouth, rocking, swaying his swollen penis bobbing, unattended, with the movement. He slid a slender finger inside her, and kissed and sucked her thighs, leaving just enough of a bruise to remind her of his mouth later, as her hips trembled with unbearable pleasure. She moaned and panted as he moved his finger in and out of her, tightening hard around him, just enough to stimulate her g spot, slowly, tantalizing, the movement adding its soft wet sounds to the sexual music around them. She throbbed around his single finger and gasped as he stimulated her slick clitorus before he suddenly stopped, leaving her breathless. She moaned and begged his name desperately. 

He removed her oil and sweat soaked gown with the same demure grace he’d shown before and moved closer to her, grasping the pillows, hovering above her. He lowered himself onto her, his firm, warm body sticking to the perfumed oil on her skin, kissing her deeply at the same time he slid his hardened cock deep inside her, swallowing her gasps with endless passionate kisses that burned against her lips and in the swirling saliva of their tongues.

He slid his penis in and out of her slowly, tempting her into an orgasm just before denying her time and time again until at last she burst, viscous fluids splashing from her, drenching them both, sticking to their thighs and genitals again and again. His sexual knowledge was vast, he surprised her with numerous positions: oasis, 69, sweet sin, night fly, courtesan, striking sweet spots deep within her where she’d never been touched, coupled with exciting erotic views of his body, the muscles flexing with the movement of his thrusts, his hypnotic gaze capturing her unfocused eyes from time to time, his mouth a soft oasis of pleasure. 

That same mouth drank in her juices, worshipping the sacred opening from which they came. She no longer seemed to be aware of any reality beyond the candlelight, their breaths, moans, the soft bells, the warmth of his tongue swirling and licking her nipples, and rolling waves of tingling yet insatiable pleasure.

Countless orgasms later as they lay exhausted on the dias, Dema cleansed her once more with his warm probing tongue and finally dipped a sponge into jasmine scented water, wiping all traces of him from her body. 

Just before he finished she felt a sense of sadness grip her. Dema had been such a kind, warm and giving lover, would this be the only intimacy she would know with him?

She looked into his warm eyes again, “let me drink your seed, Dema, I want you inside of me a little longer.” Before he could respond she took his penis into her mouth effortlessly from her seated position while he stood, licked and sucked him along the curve of his head, flicking her tongue against the tender skin of his hole, delighting in each soft moan he released unconsciously before sliding down the length of his shaft aggressively, taking him down into her throat while he panted, falling back, his hips trembling and gyrating as he cried out loudly. Altania was delighted to hear his voice and coaxed him to moan her name until his breathless cries filled her ears.

At last he burst and a stream of hot cum gushed into her throat. She swallowed it delighted as he collapsed beside her, panting, warm in each other’s arms.


End file.
